


Sun

by TheMewsAtTen



Series: Tomorrow [4]
Category: God's Own Country, God's Own Country (2017)
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 08:50:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14745705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMewsAtTen/pseuds/TheMewsAtTen
Summary: It's baking hot on the farm, and poor Johnny just can't concentrate . . .The fourth in the six-part series 'Tomorrow'.I don't own this world or the characters in it - I write for my own amusement (and hopefully yours!) and not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.I'm over on tumblr at themewsatten.tumblr.com if that's your bag!





	Sun

Johnny sighed, leaning back in his chair.

 _It’s too fucking hot for this_ , he thought irritably.

He’d been trying to focus on the figures on the page in front of him. He’d been _trying_ for the last hour and a half, all the columns of numbers blurring and making sod all sense. 

He just couldn’t concentrate in this heat. In his mind he dredged up images of all those bitterly cold nights and early mornings of winter, trying to force himself to be grateful for the nice weather they were getting at the moment. You didn’t often get days like this in Yorkshire, even at the height of summer. He knew he was supposed to be enjoying it.

But it wasn’t working. It was just _too_ warm for Johnny.

Still, at least the farm was just about breaking even these days, so while looking over the books was still as boring as shit, it wasn’t as worrying a job as it had been not so long ago. The fact was, having Gheorghe around hadn’t just been good for Johnny. It had been good for the farm, too. Two fit young blokes were always going to be better for business than one. 

And Gheorghe _was_ fit, Johnny thought, biting his lip to keep from grinning like a madman. Really, _really_ fucking fit . . .

He’d clocked him working outside when he’d looked up from his place at the table and hadn’t been able to take his eyes off him since. Exhausted and bored shitless by what felt like a bottomless pile of paperwork, he’d gazed out of the window to daydream for a while, and what he’d seen had made him swear out loud, head-butting the table with a frustrated groan. As if this bloody heat wasn’t making life hard enough, for fuck’s sake. 

Gheorghe looked like a walking wet dream. 

The sight of him had taken Johnny right back in time to when he was a horny sixteen-year-old who’d only just started to accept that he wanted to fuck blokes. He was topless, wearing jeans that made his arse and his thighs look even more gorgeous than they normally did. Johnny knew he had a cat in hell’s chance of being able to think about profit and loss or bloody VAT when Gheorghe was just _out there_ , looking like _that_ , his tanned skin shimmering and slick, beads of sweat rolling down his stomach and below his waistband, making Johnny’s mouth water. 

He was convinced that Gheorghe was just using the scorching weather as an excuse to distract him. Well, it had worked. Johnny _was_ distracted. And hard. _Achingly_ hard.

He rolled his shoulders, ran his fingers through his hair, trying again to _focus_. If he could just get this dull stuff done he could head out front and help Gheorghe with the fence he was working on. 

Since they were in the middle of a heatwave they’d decided to take their chance to border off a bit of green space in front of the house as a kind of garden where Dad and Nan could sit to get a bit of fresh air when the weather was fine. Johnny had been all for putting off the paperwork so he could do his bit. In fairness, Johnny was more or less _always_ up for putting off the paperwork. But Gheorghe had chipped in, always the voice of reason - if he carried on working while Johnny went over the books, they’d be able to really get on with the garden together afterwards, knowing that the books were done and there was one less job to worry about. 

Johnny had sulkily agreed to take care of the accounts while Gheorghe worked on the fence, grousing because, of course, Gheorghe was right. But he didn’t like it. So if it meant rewarding himself every now and then by stopping to perv over Gheorghe’s arse, well . . .

Besides, he got the feeling Gheorghe quite liked the idea of doing this on his own; a gesture for Dad and Nan. It had been Gheorghe who'd come up with the idea and planned it all out; which flowers to plant and when to plant them, setting aside space for a small herb garden for Nan and working out where there’d be shade enough during the day for Dad to sit out. It had become a bit of a project for him, and Johnny didn’t want to mess around too much with anything that helped make Gheorghe feel like he belonged.

His mind drifted to the other day when he’d run into Robyn in town. She’d ribbed him good-naturedly about his ‘whirlwind romance’ - he’d pulled a breezy sneer and told her to piss off before stealing her ciggie. But since then he’d been thinking about what he and Gheorghe had; how it was really the total opposite of ‘whirlwind’. If anything, Johnny’s life had slowed down since he met Gheorghe. He breathed more deeply, listened more carefully, ate more slowly, tasting and savouring. A year or so ago, when he came back to the house after a day’s work, he couldn’t have told you whether the birds had sung that morning, or anything about the sounds on the air up on the hill. Now he _listened_. Now he stopped to enjoy the view, seeing and hearing, inhaling the world around him, and feeling himself a part of it.

Gheorghe had done that. Johnny’s senses were all marked out in Gheorghe now; in his presence and his absence.

So he sat at the table, and he _watched_. He watched Gheorghe moving, working, the way the muscles of his stomach rippled and his throat bobbed as he slaked his thirst with deep slugs from a cup of water he’d propped on the wall.

No matter how fit and strong he got, Gheorghe always kept some softness, an almost-roundness to his body and his face that made him look open and kind and made Johnny’s heart skip for a second whenever he saw him. Johnny knew he was sharper-looking than Gheorghe, more angles and edges, even now he had gained a little weight and looked a bit healthier. He was still wiry where Gheorghe was smooth. He wondered darkly what made Gheorghe happy to settle for him when he could do so much better, if he’d _always_ be happy to settle for him . . . 

He shook the thought away. Alone in the house, just him at the table and Gheorghe putting on a stunning show right in his eyeline, Johnny could taste temptation on his tongue, the itch to unzip himself and bring himself off right where he sat, watching Gheorghe and thinking about every filthy, kinky thing he’d like him to do to him right now. 

But he knew that wasn’t going to be enough. That wasn’t even going to _touch_ the need Johnny was feeling right now. He watched Gheorghe move in the midday sun, absorbed in the joy of his work the way he always seemed to be, and felt a want that made him think he might cry. It was a familiar want; a want like nothing he’d ever known until Gheorghe had come along. In that moment it didn’t matter one bit which things needed to get done in what order. Right now it was just the two of them, and he needed to taste Gheorghe like he needed air in his lungs.

Johnny stood urgently, abandoning the paperwork where it sat on the table, and went to stand at the farmhouse door. He leaned against the doorframe, palming his stiff cock through his trousers and biting on his thumbnail the way he knew worked on Gheorghe like magic. Watching. Staring.

They had learned to speak in glances and lingering stares from the start. They did _speak_ these days; Johnny was more forthcoming, and didn’t wait to have words pulled from him now. But he loved the way Gheorghe still seemed to know what his every fleeting look meant, and how he could read Gheorghe’s own face and eyes so easily. Just because they were so _close_. He’d never been so close to another human being. He’d never wanted to be, until Gheorghe . . . 

Johnny kept touching himself, brazenly, boring a challenge to Gheorghe with his eyes - _I’m not coming to you. I want you to come to me._

Gheorghe smiled slowly, raking Johnny with his gaze from head to foot. He put down his cup and walked over to the door, slowly enough to tempt Johnny to just run and grab him. Reaching the doorway, he pressed himself flush against Johnny’s body, leaning their weight inside with a hard kiss and kicking the door shut behind them.

Johnny looked into his dark eyes, and Gheorghe tilted his chin towards the stairs in command - _Bedroom. Now_. 

Johnny teased, folding Gheorghe into his arms, kissing his neck and inhaling that musky scent of sweat and work that always left him feeling dizzy. Gheorghe purred quietly before suddenly taking hold of Johnny’s wrists and pinning them firmly against the wall above his head. 

Johnny’s stomach swooped at the feeling of being restrained. He’d had no inkling before Gheorghe came along that he could possibly get a thrill from someone else’s control. Until Gheorghe, it just hadn’t appealed to him; the idea of being at someone’s mercy striking him as scary rather than exciting. 

He felt his knees weaken when Gheorghe trailed his lips over his neck, growling into the sensitive flesh, nipping at it gently with his teeth before grabbing him by the hand and practically hauling him, wordlessly, up the stairs to their bedroom.

Stumbling through the door, Gheorghe moved Johnny’s hands to his fly, and Johnny felt him breathe brokenly as he popped the buttons slowly, one by one, before dropping to his knees and taking Gheorghe’s cock to the back of his throat. He took it greedily, right down to the base, thrilled at the feeling of how rock hard he already was, grounded by the sensation of his thumbs pressing lightly into the velvet-smooth skin of Gheorghe’s hips.

He would have been quite happy to stay where he was, blowing Gheorghe until he lost control. He could get high for hours on the feeling of pride he got from making Gheorghe come like that. But Gheorghe lifted Johnny to his feet with a wild look - _Too much. If you keep doing that I’m going to come. Not yet._ He stripped Johnny naked, just a little bit frantic, taking him by the hands to their bed. He lay on his back and guided Johnny so that he was straddling him. 

Johnny felt Gheorghe’s intent stare as he relaxed into the feeling of his calloused palms trailing over his torso, reverently, just as if it were the first time again. He cupped Johnny’s cheek, his thumb running lightly over his cheekbone - _I love you. I really do love you._

Johnny reached for the lube they kept in the bedside table, slicking Gheorghe’s cock and positioning himself over him. Gheorghe looked for a moment like he was about to stop him. Johnny knew what he was thinking. But Johnny _loved_ the way it hurt just a little bit. Never too much. He knew his limits, and Gheorghe’s too, and Gheorghe knew he knew and it was all there in the way they touched each other. It was Gheorghe who had exorcised that thing in Johnny, the thing, whatever it was, that made him want to use his body to punish himself for what was going on in his mind. 

But, still, he got off on a bit of pain. The _right_ kind of pain. The kind that came with care. With knowing he was cherished and safe; that the pain would stop any time he needed it to.

So he looked down at Gheorghe - _Please. Please let me._ \- and Gheorghe smiled and stroked his cheek and nodded, ever-so-slightly - _I don’t mind, but don’t hurt yourself_. 

He began to lower himself, slowly, Gheorghe’s mouth falling open and his eyes rolling as Johnny’s tight heat surrounded him. Johnny felt Gheorghe filling him, felt it all feeling like it was meant to, like the world was right again, and his mind emptied of everything except the wish that he could climb into this feeling and stay safe there forever. 

Gheorghe reached down to stroke Johnny’s cock as he rode him, his strokes familiar in their perfect pace and rhythm, quietly confident in their ability to give Johnny what he needed. It had always been one of the things that had put Johnny off relationships - he always though that letting someone get _that_ used to your body was bound to lead to boredom. But with Gheorghe it had just made everything better; and there was always _more_. More to feel and to learn and to memorise. They were more used to each other now than they had been at the start, but Gheorghe still felt _new_ to Johnny. Nothing that Johnny had feared about being with one person had happened. Not with Gheorghe. The only fear now was the ever-present terror of losing it all. 

Johnny threw back his head, shuddering as he came over Gheorghe’s stomach. Gheorghe sat up, holding Johnny upright tenderly as his back arched, taking his weight with his palm between his shoulder blades and touching his lips to his throat. Johnny felt Gheorghe’s cock throb inside him as he came with a low groan a moment later, still pressing kisses to Johnny’s skin.

Gheorghe pulled Johnny down to rest on top of him as their breathing slowed in the peaceful quiet of their bedroom, kissing his temple - _I’ve got you. It’s OK. I’ve got you._

After sex was when Johnny was most glad that they could still be silent together without expectation. He was still slightly humiliated that being with Gheorghe this way, naked and vulnerable, made him tearful; that this closeness, the strength of how he made him feel, felt like it had made a nervous wreck of him somehow. 

Gheorghe stirred after a while. He led Johnny - naked since they were alone, and just because they could - to the shower to get cleaned up. Johnny looked around the bathroom with satisfaction. They’d been able to gut it out and do it up thanks to the farm doing so well lately, and even though he had anxiously justified the cost to himself by saying it was for his dad’s benefit, Johnny had to admit that they were all relieved it was done. It had badly needed it, and as the cool stream splashed down on them both, he was glad they’d gone to the expense, buoyed up with pride at having done something to show he could take care of them all. His family. His responsibility. _All_ of them. _His_. 

He clung to Gheorghe, the water running off their bodies, leaning on him weakly as their sweat and dirt and come mingled together before disappearing away. Gheorghe had moved through Johnny’s existence like that; like water finally running clear. When they’d met, it had happened without warning. And now Johnny was changed. The essence of him was changed. The place in Johnny where Gheorghe lived was altered forever. 

He buried his nose in the wet hair of Gheorghe’s chest, feeling the heat of him through his skin and wondering how the fuck he was ever going to be brave enough to say the words - to ask the question that had already made a home in his head and burned its way into his terrified heart. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this. I wanted to try something with no dialogue, a nod to the fact that even though Johnny and Gheorghe are talking more in the 'Tomorrow' series, they still communicate through their eyes and touches, too.


End file.
